


i was a teenage werewolf

by Tangerina



Series: seven different ways [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (richie isn't aware of the mutual part), Bisexual Richie Tozier, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Character Study, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Mike Hanlon, Gen, Internalized Biphobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie and Mike kissing, The Losers Club (IT) Love Each Other, The Toziers being great parents, Token Straight Friend Ben Hanscom, Underage Drinking, Werewolf metaphors everywhere, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-18 19:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerina/pseuds/Tangerina
Summary: Don’t touch the other boys, Richie, Pennywise whispered inside his head, time and time again. They were thirteen when they defeated It, Richie didn’t even fully –didn’t want to– understand what that meant at the time.He did now.or, richie discovers that there never was a monster within himself.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Series: seven different ways [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542961
Comments: 40
Kudos: 181





	i was a teenage werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> **warnings!** besides everything that is already tagged, this work contains  
\- bad language (of course)  
\- a fatphobic thought  
\- the use of the f* slur  
\- a binary conception of bisexuality  
\- a bad taste joke about bar mitzvahs  
\- a non graphic scene of homophobic violence, which includes the use of the f* slur and other violent words. it happens after the moment on stan's house. you can skip it if you want.
> 
> many thanks to luisa, @sadplant, @pintassilgo, @DuendeJunior and @sugimotos for the beta-reading, opinions and moral support. i spent almost a month talking about this work, you guys are Warriors.

Richie had had a crush on Beverly for a time.

He knew this. He remembered the first time he noticed that she was really beautiful, not just pretty. The bruise fading from her cheek, making her grey-blue eyes even more alive, her freckles more evident, her hair softer. He remembered the way he paid attention whenever she drew a cigarette to her lips. The way he knew he blushed whenever she’d throw a comeback at him, when she said that they were on a _ date_, whenever their fingers brushed when she lit up his cigar. 

He had a crush on Beverly, he was the same as Ben, as Bill. He was _ normal_, right? He dreamed about her and woke up sweating. He knew she liked Bill, and that was okay, because who didn’t? Who would look at any of them when Bill Denbrough was there to be looked at?

Oh, that thought. That intrusive thought of Bill’s large back, of his broad shoulders. Bill double riding Richie on Silver, Richie paying too much attention to not let himself touch Bill anywhere, but – Silver was too fast, Richie’s hands held Bill’s waist, and Bill never flinched away, always acted as if it was just another touch. Richie felt sick, like he was deceiving his best friend, doing something that Bill would be angry if he knew Richie’s true thoughts. 

Richie had had a crush on Bev. Sometimes, he woke up hard after dreaming about her, the sun caught in her exposed skin when they went swimming. And sometimes, some terrible times, he woke up hard after dreaming about the feeling of Bill’s tights around his head. It was just a fucking game – Bill on his shoulders, Stan on Ben’s, who would fall first in the water? But his mind, his disgusting mind, placed the warmth of Bill’s skin in the same level of the softness of Bev’s.

_ Don’t touch the other boys, Richie_, Pennywise whispered inside his head, time and time again. They were thirteen when they defeated It, Richie didn’t even fully – _ didn’t want to _ – understand what that meant at the time. 

He did now. 

* * *

(when richie was a kid, he got so sad watching tony rivers transforms into a werewolf – everybody was afraid of him, but he was just a boy, a troubled boy, the monstrosity was just a part of him; it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t choose to be like that, to have a secret that crawled out of his skin; and richie was not a kid anymore and he never rewatched that movie, but when he closed his eyes he remembered the werewolf they fought, _ richie tozier _ embroidered on its jacket. and he knew, he just _ knew _ that their collective victory was not his own and he would never, never, win over the werewolf inside him.)

* * *

“Ben, now that you’re sixteen, you know you can legally say _ fuck_, right?,” Richie knew his voice was lazy. It was his _ I drank just a bit too much _ voice. His mind was always too fast, ten feet ahead of everyone else’s, but alcohol seemed to slow him down. 

“I don’t think that’s how the law works,” Ben answered. “Or you would have been arrested for saying fuck crimes a long time ago.”

“That _ is _ because! I’m not a filthy American, Sir,” Richie used his best English Man Voice. It was a lot better than it was two years before. “The kingdom figured out that the only way we could still live in a monarchy in the twentieth century was if we could say _ fuck_,” he put all his effort on that one word, “from a very young age.”

Ben laughed. Richie smiled. He felt… something. Ben was beautiful when he laughed. His eyes became those little lines and he had a smile that made his face glow. When he met Ben, he thought some stupid thing like _ he is that fattest person I’ve seen _ and when they started to be friends he thought _ I’m saving this kid’s life, taking him out of loneliness_. 

He was wrong. He didn’t save Ben’s life by offering him a hand; Ben saved his by taking it. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without Ben laughing at his jokes, helping him doing his homework because he _ knew _the subject but just couldn’t focus, grabbing his arm whenever they saw a horror movie. Richie knew that Ben thought about his six friends as saviors, but it was so, so much more than that. Ben had saved them, too.

Bev appeared with more drinks. When Ben looked at her, his eyes sparkled. Richie wondered if Ben realized how obvious his love was for everyone watching him – and then he hoped it wasn’t. He hoped he could see it because he knew the feeling, as awful as the feeling was. Ben wasn’t doing anything wrong by loving Beverly. Richie, on the other hand…

He took a sip of whatever it was that Bev brought them. It was strong and sweet and it was the only thing he needed to know. Bev, Eddie and Stan had adorned the cups with drawings of little crabs, because of Ben’s star sign. It looked pretty cute. 

He wished Bev loved Ben back. Maybe she did and she didn’t realize. Maybe she was going to love him someday. Maybe not. And the thing was, Ben would be happy in any scenario, if she was still on his life. 

_ The only girl that can love him is Bev. She’s the only one who already know how beautiful his is… inside _ – and then – _ what the fuck, Richie. Ben is not ugly _ – and then – _ actually, if I remember correctly, there was that one day when you were falling asleep on his bedroom floor and he caressed your hair and you felt so good and you dreamed about him _ – and – _ just as you did with Bev when you saw the bruise on her cheek, that moment realizing what beauty really was, and you saw it in Ben too and after you see beauty in someone you can’t unsee it_. 

“Ben, if I were a girl, would you ask me to dance?,” he batted his eyelashes. Richie tried to go for a smooth Voice, but he noticed – or maybe he was being paranoid – an edge of strain in it. 

Ben threw him a funny look. And then, got up from his place on the couch to stand in front of Richie, offering his hand. “Richard Tozier, Boy of a Hundred Voices, would you give me the honour of this dance?”

Bev clapped her hands. “Oh, you two make a wonderful pair!,” and she was laughing, but there was no mischief in her voice. 

Richie took Ben’s hand.

They were listening to a mixtape that Richie had made especially for Ben’s birthday. _ You put the boom-boom into my heart_, George Michael sang, a perfect song for the perfect boy in love that was Ben Hanscom. 

Richie knew he was drunk, thus clumsier than ever. But Ben held his hands and was really leading him, in the best way he could. Richie felt so much love for him – and some other things too. They were close and Ben’s hands were firmly holding his and when Ben spinned Richie they ended up face to face and Richie realized that Ben wasn’t just friendly-beautiful. _ I’m such a fucking mess_, he concluded. 

“I could kiss you right now, Hanscom,” he smiled and hoped it came out as a joke, as everything he said. Ben didn’t falter, snapping a kiss on his cheek. He made everything seem so natural, so organic. Richie wondered if it would still be the same if he knew the truth in his words. 

“Can’t believe you gave Ben a sweet sixteen dance while on my birthday you threw a piece of cake at me,” Stan said, suddenly close to them.

“Have you met this man?,” Richie gestured Ben and saw his face coloring with pink. “He’s the cake himself, Staniel.”

“Are you trying to woo Ben?,” Stan narrowed his eyes. 

Richie opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Bev pushing him to the side. “Get in the fucking line, Tozier!,” she exclaimed and the look on Ben’s face made Richie more happy than he ever imagined he could be. 

* * *

(the first time he saw eddie – talking to bill denbrough and both of them laughing about something eddie had said, and then victor criss shoving eddie when he passed and eddie bumping into a wall and all his books falling from his hands and bill was there to help and richie just didn’t know why but he ran at them and screamed something at criss and got a _ defending this faggot, tozier? _and that’s when richie tozier became, officially, a loser. his glasses weren’t even that thick yet. at the time, richie didn’t know why he did that.

many years later he would tell eddie – _ I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you_.)

* * *

It was dark and they should be sleeping, but they were not. 

“So what do you want to do?,” Eddie whispered. It was nice hearing his voice like that. Richie wasn't wearing his glasses, so he couldn’t see shit, and the lights were off and the curtains were closed. He knew Eddie was right by his side, but at the same time, he could imagine Eddie’s voice coming from anywhere. 

The best part about sleeping at Mike’s house was the complete silence outside. Or better than that: the sound of the wind, the sound of some nocturnal birds, sounds that they had lost by the city. It was their tradition, to spend their last summer vacation night at the Hanlon’s. Jessica and William were the best people in the world, and they always welcomed Mike’s Whities with open arms. 

Richie could hear Bev’s snore by his other side. He loved her and loved talking to her about what they would do after school was over, but he was glad she was sleeping. He loved more than anything talking to Eddie about his dreams, his goals. None of his friends would judge him, they were all supportive, just like his parents, but Richie wanted Eddie’s approval, Eddie’s support, and Eddie never failed to give him all those things. And Richie knew he meant every word, even when Eddie scolded him he did it in a way that never made Richie feel bad about himself. 

“Just leave this fucking town,” Richie answered. “Sometimes I think… people here just forget. We fought It what? Three years ago? And okay, that may be a long time – for _ us_. The old folk here, kids dying and everything, and they just. They simply didn’t care that much,” he could hear the resentment in his voice. Usually, he would try to hide it, but Eddie never made him feel insecure about what he was saying.

“I wish I could leave here too,” Eddie’s voice had an uneasiness on it. Richie wished he could ban all of Eddie’s insecurities, the way he felt Eddie did to him. Sonia Kaspbrak was the worst type of nature force. She wanted to be the Sun of Eddie’s life, she wanted to be the center of his system, she wanted him to never look away from her. After they defeated It, her domain on him had wavered a little – but what she had done to him had profoundly infiltrated Eddie’s mind. He almost never used his inhaler anymore, but the anxiety never left his eyes. Richie could see his fear of doing _ (being?) _ something wrong, and he knew he couldn’t blame anyone but Sonia Kaspbrak herself. 

“You can,” Richie put all his determination on these two words. He believed it. Eddie was capable of everything, even leaving his mom. Eddie was so kind, so determined, so brave, so gentle, he truly had everything. Sometimes Richie felt such an impostor by Eddie’s side. What did he have to offer? Jokes and some good chucks? “Leave with me,” he added, unthinkingly. 

The air felt heavy.

Richie felt so _ stupid_. His impulsive brain, controlling his even more impulsive mouth. He should not have said that. It was too dark for Eddie to see his face, and he was glad for that. He didn’t want to be seen. He could feel his cheeks blushing. 

(he was trying to be _ right_, he really was – and then his mind would wander to that day on the smoke hole, holding mike’s hand, desire in comfort, comfort in desire and how he felt about eddie now, eddie, eddie, eddie, the name escaping from his lips almost every night. he felt as if he was broken: a right half and a wrong one, and the wrong one was strongest when he was with eddie and he just _ knew _ eddie was different too, but eddie wasn’t broken, he wasn’t a monster. and richie was so afraid of being a monster, he was so _ tired _ of being the monster.)

“I wish I could,” Eddie’s voice was small, so small, and then Richie felt something brushing against his lips. No, it wasn’t a kiss. It was Eddie’s fingers, a light touch, and Richie knew he wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do something impulsive and stupid and-

Eddie retracted his hand. Richie knew he should be happy, but he felt awful – _ I broke him too_.

* * *

(he was thirteen and he had fought with his best friend because of a fucking monster clown and he was alone and he was scared and he was just a kid, just a kid who had so many feelings he couldn’t understand yet and he didn’t think that he was wrong, because those feelings made him feel so good, why would such a good thing make him a bad person? he was thirteen and he was angry at everybody – every adult that made kids feel unsafe, every person that called him and his friends names in the corridor, everyone in the fucked up town of derry, a town they were trying to save, and that didn’t give anything to them in return. he was thirteen and he understood what bev made him feel, he almost understood what bill made him feel, but _ eddie eddie eddie _ was so different from anything, he felt so _ full _ of whatever this was. 

he took a knife and thought that if the world would give him hate whatever he did, he might as well let some truth out – _ r + e_.)

* * *

The problem was…

The problem was that Richie _ felt _ Eddie had a secret too, something that made him different. Therefore, Richie could not be the one who broke him. Mostly because Eddie didn’t have anything wrong with him, and Richie knew that for sure. 

The problem was that Richie remembered very well everything he always did around Eddie – _ cute cute cute _ while pinching his cheek, always holding him, hugging him, telling him _ your mom wouldn’t approve_, not sure if Eddie understood what he really meant. Everything he did when they were with their friends or when they were alone, because it would be the end of Richie’s world if anyone else saw how he was around Eddie, or any of his male friends. Always so touchy. Always so close. 

And so, what if… What if Eddie was normal, and what if Richie had made him… 

He felt like throwing up.

Richie remembered the way Eddie looked at Bill when they were younger – he felt jealous those times, jealous of the attention Eddie gave Bill and jealous of someone looking at Bill like that, until he realized that _ all _of them looked at Bill like that, even Ben. If Bill was everyone’s first crush, Eddie blushing when Bill praised him for something didn’t mean anything. 

That, or all his friends were… Like him, in a way. This made him want to laugh. 

Aside Bill, he thought about the way Eddie talked about and looked at River Phoenix, but even Stan said once that Phoenix was _ gorgeous _ and that word was so full on Stan’s mouth, and Eddie agreed too fast and then he was blushing, like he had let out something that he shouldn’t. 

Eddie never looked at any girl – _ hell_, Eddie never looked at Beverly with desire, he knew that for fucking sure, because Bev acted accordingly: they always held hands, they were always hanging onto each other, Bev’s arm around Eddie’s shoulder. She never hesitated to touch him, she knew he was safe from the very first day. It took a lot of time for her to begin to relax more about touching the others, and even if they didn’t discuss the subject out loud, they knew the rules: she was the one to begin the contact, she was the one to break it, she was the one to have control over it. Except with Eddie. He could rest his head on her lap for however long he wanted and she wouldn’t even flinch. 

Richie felt he would go crazy, analyzing every move of Eddie, trying to gather evidence for – _ something_.

The feeling of the tip of Eddie’s fingers caressing his lips never went away. If he were a girl, Richie would have kissed him. That realization scared him so much that sometimes he felt afraid he might just say it out loud. _ The imp of the perverse_, he thought bitterly, remembering the essay he wrote about Edgar Allan Poe. Mike helped him to choose the short story. It was a curse, at the time: Richie caught himself thinking _ I like boys _ so frequently that he never knew if he had just whispered it. Or screamed it.

But he liked girls, too. That should count for something, right? 

(the problem was: richie didn’t feel like he was wrong. but he felt that others would seem him as wrong, and this was worse than everything – _ richie tozier sucks flamer cock_, someone wrote on the girls’ bathroom wall years ago, and it still petrified him.)

“Richie, are you alright?,” Mike’s voice was worried. Richie looked at him, feeling again he had just said it out loud. 

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?,” Mike repeated. Richie knew his cheeks were burning, but Mike didn’t say anything and so Richie concluded that it was safe to talk again.

“I’m…,” he prepared a joke. But he was tired. Maybe it _ was _ safe to talk. Mike had this quality in him: quiet, calm and strong, like earth. Would Mike look differently at him? This was the greatest fear of Richie’s life: the eyes of the world. He wanted to be famous, but he didn’t want people to know things about him they shouldn’t. But Mike wasn’t just _ people_. Mike was one of the people he would die for. 

Suddenly, he remembered that Bev didn’t mind touching Mike either. He could just put his hand on her hair and pat her head and she wouldn’t squirm off. Mike was safe. 

“You don’t have to-,” Mike would say something nice, as always, to show that he didn’t expect any of them to do something they didn’t want to, but Richie suddenly felt the urge to let his secret out. 

“Mikey… I want to tell you something,” Richie felt like his heart wanted to crawl out of his mouth. Mike shook his head and turned down the radio. They were at Richie’s room, listening to _ Automatic for the People_. It had come out two weeks after Mike’s birthday, and it was his late-gift for him. Richie always liked listening to music with Mike because he _ understood_, even if he was more a book person – he understood that music was to Richie what books were to him, and when they finished listening to a new album, they told each other what their favorite lyrics were and Richie treasured those moments more than music itself.

“Okay,” Mike said softly, after a while. Richie couldn’t look at him. 

“I… when…,” he took a deep breath. _ I will try not to burden you, I can hold these inside_, Michael Stipe was singing. What happened when you got tired of holding everything inside? “When we fought Pennywise,” Richie smiled. He didn’t want to smile, but he was just so used to smile away everything he felt it was hard being serious. “He told me… At the time, I didn’t understand. I swear. Or maybe I did, but not… Anyway, he told me to not touch the other boys because… Because they, because _ you _ would know… My secret.”

Richie only noticed that he was trying to rip out the cuticle of his index finger when he saw Mike’s hand over his. Stopping him. “It’s okay,” Mike said.

There was something so heartbreaking in Mike’s voice – or maybe Richie just didn’t expect that Mike would _ touch _ him after he said that. Not any touch, but his hand, so firm, over Richie’s. Desire in comfort. Richie felt something itchy in his face and with horror, he realized he was crying. Tears rolling down his face, staining his glasses. He tried not to move, not to make a sound, not to make this even more humiliating, but the first sob escaped his mouth and then he was truly weeping. 

And Mike hugged him.

“It’s okay, Rich,” he repeated, and repeated and repeated and Richie held him, shaking. Mike wasn’t afraid of him. Mike wasn’t angry at him. Mike wasn’t disgusted with him. Mike was there, strong arms around Richie, whispering that there was nothing wrong with him. “I’m sorry It used this to hurt you.”

Richie realized that Mike truly meant it. He wasn’t sorry that Richie was like that. He wasn’t pitying Richie. He was saying that the only fucked up thing about all that was what It made him feel – that his friends wouldn’t support him. _ The river empties to the tide, all of this is coming your way_. Richie felt the knot in his chest ease just a little bit.

* * *

Eddie kissed him.

Eddie kissed him and Richie felt all his body warm up. Every part of Eddie was so, so soft. He knew this, they always were so close to another, but it was different, feeling that softness so near. Eddie parted his lips and Richie let his tongue slide into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie bit him. “What the fuck, Tozier?,” he was angry and Richie could feel the taste of blood in his mouth. “Are you insane?”

Eddie was standing up now, hands on Richie’s neck. Blood on his mouth, air on his head. “This is disgusting… You’re sick.”

“N-no, Ed…,” he tried to say, tried to hold Eddie’s hand, but he didn’t have a hand. With horror, Richie watched his paw on Eddie’s arm. Eddie screamed, let him go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!,” Eddie yelled and Richie felt pain in his whole body. Blood, blood on his mouth, the taste waking something in him, his body cracking, Eddie still screaming, not out of fear, but of anger. “I can’t believe I let someone like you touch me… You’re worse than sick. You’re a monster.”

And Richie tried to explain, but his mouth could not form words, only howls. And he was still howling when Eddie went away.

(when he woke up, he wasn’t screaming or anything like that – he just felt tired on his own skin. he wished he could change it for a day or two. a day or two without hating himself for something he couldn’t control sounded really good.)

* * *

They were at the Barrens.

Screaming and laughing and swimming, Bev tickling Stan until he was crying and begging for her to stop. Richie loved when Stan laughed like that. Mike and Ben were talking about some book, and he, Bill and Eddie were betting who could swim faster. They were racing and in that race, Richie felt the need to cheat. 

First, he held Eddie’s ankle and Eddie kicked him away, but never stopped laughing. Richie did it again and Eddie let himself be pulled, and everything was so confusing when they were in the water, wasn't it? Bill, still swimming to the arrival point, and Richie holding Eddie’s hips, laughing, feeling his skin under his palm.

“Richie, you’re such a cheater!,” Stan said from the other side.

“He always wins when we’re running! It’s not fair!,” Richie answered. 

“I would win this if it weren’t for for you!,” Eddie exclaimed, but he wasn’t angry. Actually, he was almost not tossing anymore, and one of his hands was on Richie’s chest. They were so close and Richie could see the way the sun caught Eddie’s eyes, turning chocolate into caramel. 

_ You’re beautiful_, Richie thought. “You know what else you would win? The contest of Derry’s cutest pie,” Richie pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“It’s true!,” Mike yelled from somewhere. They all laughed.

“Hey!,” Bill’s voice. He was standing over a big rock, hands on his hips. “I wuh-wuh-won!”

Bev threw water at him. Richie looked at them, all together, laughing and shining under the sun and Eddie’s hand was still on his chest. _ No, Big Bill_, he thought, plunging and using Eddie’s leg to hold himself down. Eddie didn’t move. _ I won_.

* * *

(the truth was that he was deeply in love and like all people who are deeply in love who kept their feelings a secret, he didn’t think he was good enough for eddie. it was a bigger problem to l_(ove love love love)_ike him not because eddie would think of him as a monster of any kind – eddie wasn’t like that, but because he would always just be richie trashmouth tozier, ridiculous glasses, crazy hair, crooked teeth, too many pimples, too pale, too skinny, too hairy. why would eddie fall for him back?)

* * *

“So-”

“Oh, no. No, no. Mikey, you’re giving me that look. The look my mom used when she said we should have a _ conversation _ and, bam! Suddenly, all my naked girls magazines were in front of me. Terrible day, really. She said it was okay I had them, but my sister was the one who found them out and she’s like eight or nine, who knows? And Maggie went all _ please hide away your porn just like you hide away your feelings _ and I was like _ damn_, that was fucking deep and-”

“_Richie_.”

“The last part I made up, but it would have been sick, wouldn’t it?” 

He could see how hard Mike was trying to keep a straight face. “Jesus fucking Christ, man. You're an only child. Be quiet, will you?”

Richie pretended he was sewing his lips. Mike shook his head, smiling. “I just wanted to thank you.”

“What?,” Richie was truly confused. Thank him for what? 

“Yeah, I just, you know… You trusted me something about yourself.”

“Mikey, are you aware that we are friends or I’m completely misunderstanding the last few years?”

“You’re right. I just… I didn’t expect it. Because you’re so close to Eddie and Stan and Bill. And Bev! And-”

“Ben? The other person on the group, you know.”

“I swear to God, _ Richie_…”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry.”

Mike took a deep breath. And then, Richie realized that Mike was avoiding his eyes. He was nervous. That broke his heart a little. He remembered how Mike was quiet, waiting for him to be ready to confess what was on his heart. He should do the same for him, so he shut his mouth. 

“I know you are my friends,” he said. “I love you guys so much. Really. But I never… My only friends were my parents. There aren’t a lot of black folks here in Derry and I always thought that my fate was to be an outsider in my own home. I still feel like that sometimes. It's not because of you, it's just… Me. And then you told me that, and I felt… This is dumb, but I felt important." 

"You are important, Mikey," Richie didn't want to joke about that. "I mean… Even if I hadn't told you anything, you know? You're one of my best friends. I would die for you." 

"No need to. But I’d do the same," Mike smiled. "I know this is really stupid, but I was the last one to arrive, and so I always had that feeling that… I was the disposable one," by the end of the sentence, Mike's voice was so low that Richie could pretend he didn’t hear such nonsense.

“Mike… When you’re solving a puzzle, what’s the best piece?”

“... What?”

Richie sighed. And then, put a hand on each side of Mike’s face. “Listen to me very carefully because I will never be this serious again. When you’re solving a puzzle, the best piece of it is the last one. This is the one that makes everything you were doing make sense. The first, okay, important one. The others just go by and by. But the last one… The last piece, when the image is almost formed, but not yet – that last piece, when it falls into place, you just _ see _ why you were making all that effort. That’s you, Mikey. You’re the last piece of our beautiful puzzle.”

“How did you know you wanted to kiss boys?”

It was not the answer Richie expected. “How do you know you want to kiss girls?,” he failed to hide the sarcasm in his voice. 

“I don’t.”

_ Oh _ – Richie thought. Or he said. It didn’t matter, because then – he was kissing a boy.

* * *

Richie was kissing a boy. 

* * *

And not any boy. Mike. Michael Hanlon. Mikey. He was kissing Mike and he was truly liking it. There was a part of his brain that hoped he was wrong: no, Richie, you don’t like boys the way you like girls. I bet that the day you really kiss a boy you will get back on your senses. 

Well. He sure was sensing _ something_. 

His hands were still on Mike’s face and Mike’s lips were soft against his. Richie knew his lips could get kinda dry, but Mike didn’t seem to mind that at all. It wasn’t his first kiss: a year or so before Bev gave him the honour to be kissed by her. And months after that he kissed a girl he met at the record shop. She was visiting her aunt and Richie thought that the fact that she wasn’t permanently on Derry was the crucial reason behind the kiss. It was weird to imagine himself having a relationship outside the Losers’ Club. Romantic or not.

When they parted, Richie took a moment to observe Mike’s face. Thick eyebrows and long eyelashes. His brown eyes were warm, full of amazement. Richie was sure that they were only reflecting his own gaze. 

“I’ve never kissed a boy before,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder. He realized that he was panting. Mike was too. 

“Me neither.”

“And you… Didn’t feel the urge to puke or something?”

“What? No. _ Did you_?”

“No! No. Wow, Mikey, you’re a fucking great kisser. It’s just…It’s me, you know.” 

He hoped that Mike would understand without him having to explain. And Mike did. The Losers had this mental connection that was at its peak when they were fighting It. But they knew each other very well now. And Mike were such an empathizer that he always seemed to understand their thoughts without a word. 

“Rich, even if I liked girls, I would never be disgusted by kissing you. _ Because _ it’s you.”

They sat in silence. Richie glanced at Mike, that was smiling. “What?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’m glad it was you.” 

Richie threw himself on the floor, the only answer his brain seemed to have for moments like that. He grabbed Mike’s ankle. “The honour! The privilege! Is it Christmas? Is it my birthday? Is it just the luckiest day of my life?”

Mike laughed. “You really wanna kill me of embarrassment.”

“Kill you? And keep the world from its most stunning habitant? I could never!”

The answer he got was Mike laying by his side. Both of them on the floor, face to face. They couldn’t stop smiling. 

After a moment of silence, Richie cleaned his throat. “And when were you going to tell me that you liked boys too? Why didn’t you say anything that day?”

“Because it was your moment, I guess. I mean… I could see how much you were suffering and I didn’t want to make things about me.”

“So you suffered in silence some more. That makes completely sense.”

Mike shook his head. That smile was on his face again. The sad one. Richie didn’t like it, but he didn’t press Mike into talking either. His heart was still beating fast. He had just kissed a boy and he didn’t become a monster in the process. And Mike was far from being a monster, so… Maybe Richie wasn’t a monster at all.

“Wait, wait, I don’t wanna spoil the moment, but you said _ if _you liked girls… You don’t?”

Mike looked at him confused. “I thought that this whole thing was about we getting gayer together, man.”

Richie laughed, a little too high. He was nervous again. “I… Do, actually. I like girls. I think I’m… Can you be like, fifty percent gay?,” Richie felt his hands sweating. This shouldn’t be a problem, right? If the normal thing was to like girls and if he did like girls, he was almost normal. Mike, on the other hand, was completely – he didn’t let his mind conclude the thought. Mike wasn’t wrong. Maybe Richie was even more fucked up than he thought. Maybe he was a pervert. That was the werewolf inside him: not liking boys, but liking boys _ and _girls. Someone who couldn’t decide couldn’t be trusted. 

“Richie, I can see on your face that you’re freaking out, but the word you’re looking for is _ bisexual_.”

“What?”

“Bisexual. Like… I don’t know, Ben is heterosexual, right? Probably. And maybe I'm… Homosexual. And you’re bisexual. That’s it.”

“There is a word for that? And how do you know all that? Are you a fucking sexual guru or something? Man, what do people really do in libraries?” 

Mike laughed. “First of all, are you okay with it? With me maybe being… Gay? Because I thought that we were on the same page, and you probably thought the same and now we are on the same book, but in different chapters.”

“I love when you get all metaphorical, Mikey, and of course I’m fucking okay with that. More than okay, actually, if you know what I mean…,” he winked exaggeratedly. Mike hid his face in his hands, but he was smiling. “But the word…”

“There is really a lot to read on libraries. Even here. Academic papers and stuff like that. That’s where I saw all those words and definitions.”

“Wow, you really are very handsome and very smart. Some guys just have it all, I guess.”

And, because they were young and full of hormones – and because they were euphoric and not feeling so alone anymore, they ended the conversation and started kissing some more.

* * *

Bisexual, huh.

That should have put Richie at ease. He went with Mike to the library – “the things I do for love,” he said when they got there and Mike rolled his eyes at him – and they, very surreptitiously, gathered all the magazines about sexuality they found there. It was not a lot, but it was enough for Richie. 

Bisexual people existed. Bisexual people were out there, dating men and women. It should have been a comfort. It was, in a way. He thanked Mike for everything: the company, the words, the kisses. He tried to rationalize everything in an internal debate.

He didn’t feel bad for kissing Mike. He would very much like to do it again, thank you very much. He didn’t feel bad for liking Eddie. It was something he could not fight against. 

On the other hand, he felt… Almost predatory. The werewolf with _ Richie Tozier _ on his jacket was everything he saw when he closed his eyes. There were bisexual people in the world. And yet, he felt so nervous about being one of them. Indecisive, unsettled, incapable of being trusted, driven by selfish desires, a pervert. He _ knew _ that those people weren’t like that, he couldn’t judge a group of people based on a simple word, a word that applied to him, a word they couldn’t deny. 

But to know one thing and to feel according were two different things. If anything, he wasn’t judging a group of people – only himself. 

And Mike didn’t judge him, but Mike wasn’t the whole world. If people knew, they would never see the boy, only the monster. 

* * *

“I’m gonna stab you,” Stan deadpanned, while methodically peeling an orange.

“Why, I’m quiet. You know the rules, no stabbing when I’m silent.”

He lifted his eyes. Ben proposed a movie afternoon at his home and Richie was at Stan’s, watching him cutting apple slices and peeling oranges and removing seeds from watermelon pieces. Stan liked fruits a lot. Richie still ate like a ten-year-old. “Yeah, but you’re stabbing me with your eyes. So it would be fair.”

“You would be a great lawyer.” 

“Why are you here?”

“Wow, Staniel! Love you too.”

Stan offered him a grape. Richie took it because it was the only bearable fruit. 

“Eddie asked you to go to his house before we went to Ben's. But you’re here.”

“It’s because I love you more.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. Richie shrugged in response. There was no way of telling him the truth – that ever since he kissed Mike, he couldn’t look at Eddie without imagining if he was right in his suspicions about his sexuality. The fingers on his lips and all the times they touched so softly, almost not touching at all. Being alone with Eddie, in his house, would be a fucking nightmare. 

There was no way of telling him the truth – that after he and Mike were done kissing, both of them panting on the floor of Richie’s room, Richie began to wonder how many of them had those secrets. Mike chose especifically Ben to call heterosexual, and Mike was too aware of everything surrounding him for that to be a random choice of words and Richie wished that the world was a more welcoming place, where none of them needed to hide. 

And now he was looking at Stan as if he could cut his skull open and learn all the secrets that were there. 

Stan was arranging all the fruits in bowls. Richie looked at his hands, long fingers and short nails. Stan had his own sense of humour, diametrically opposed to Richie, and Richie simply adored it. Stan had kind eyes and a kinder heart. He was cutting and peeling every fruit before the picnic so no one would have to worry about seeds or getting their hands sticky with juice. Richie felt such endearment. He remembered the time Bev told them about the writing in the girl’s bathroom, how all colour was drained from his face. But Stan just shrugged it off. He said it wasn’t true, and he wouldn’t be bothered by it. Richie wished he could be like that. 

“On Halloween, Eddie asked you to go to your house, so you two could get dressed up together and you not only denied it, but also dressed up at Bill’s house.” 

“Whoa, are you spying on me?,” Richie tried to keep his voice light, but his hands were already sweating. 

“It’s just unlike you to avoid Eddie.” 

“I’m not avoiding him!,” he took a deep breath. He could just tell Stan the truth. He could at least try to. “How do you feel about werewolves?”

“What?”

“Just tell me. Do you think they’re like, evil?,” Richie knew that he was asking a stupid question. They fought a werewolf, they had to practice their aim for that. Of course werewolves were bad things. 

“Why do I feel that werewolves are not what we’re really discussing?”

“Why can’t you answer one simple question?,” Richie didn’t intended the tone that the words came out. Stan looked at him like he was watching a bird.

“And why can’t you trust your friends instead of hiding behind nonexistent things?”

“What the fuck, Stanley? Nonexistent? Yeah, to other people. Not to us,” Richie stood up. That was not supposed to be happening. Stan didn’t move from where he was. There was something in his eyes. He looked hurt. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You never want to talk about it. I bet you have nightmares too. But you don’t trust us with them, do you?” 

Richie felt he was out of his body. That fight wasn’t happening to him. He had no reason to be mad at Stan. He knew he was angry at himself. Stan was right. He wasn’t trusting his best friends with something. But he was so afraid. So afraid that this would change something. So afraid that they would look at him differently. 

“It’s not it.”

"Then what is it?" 

Stan's face was growing redder. Richie felt horrible. The worst thing about starting a fight was that he never knew the time to stop – that's why he hadn't given up fighting It. But Stan was a part of his soul, not a monster. He should know when to stop. 

"Why don't you trust me?," his voice was like a kid's one. "Can't you be serious, just for once?" 

Richie laughed. "No, Stan, I can't. I'm just an idiot who is never serious. When I held you in the sewers I wasn't being serious. When I faced It with only a fucking baseball bat I wasn't being serious. When I was the only fucking one at your chopping off your dick ceremony I wasn't being fucking serious!," his face was burning. He turned to the door. "Tell Ben I’ll be there next time." 

"Richie!," Stan called, but he was already gone. 

* * *

He was crying on his way home. 

When he and Bill fought in the summer of ‘89, his mom told him that it was easier to fight with people you trusted, because you knew that it wouldn't last. He didn't believe her at the time – it seemed like such a big deal; it had been one. But then, Bill told him that Bev was gone and everything else faded. 

He knew he loved Stan. And he knew Stan loved him. They would be okay. But he was crying anyway, because it didn't matter how much he was sure that things would be okay later: they weren't okay now. 

And he didn't even know why. Richie didn't like to look inside him. In a moment he just felt so much love towards Stan and in the next he was being a fucking asshole to him. For what? Being upset that Stan had noticed he was hiding something? Shouldn't he be glad his friend paid attention to him? 

He bumped into someone. 

"Watch your way, fucker!," and then, "Hey, aren't you the little fairy from the arcade?" 

Richie looked at him. Three years have passed and he would not recognize the boy if he hadn't said anything. But looking at him now, he could see Henry Bowers' jaw. 

"Why are you crying, faggy? Your boyfriend broke up with you?" 

"Man, I didn't even recognize you, but it looks like you spent the last three years jerking off to the thought of my face." 

Next thing Richie knew, he was being thrown against a wall. 

"What did you fucking say, queer?" 

He wanted to laugh. He had just stormed out of Stan's house, one of the safest places in Derry. He should have been with his friends, the safest place in the world. But there he was, feeling the air leaving his lungs. Why was Henry Bowers' cousin there, anyway? Just because Richie's luck was _ that _ fucked up? 

"I said," _oh richie you're so stupid you're the most fucking stupid person that ever existed_, "that I didn't knew your ugly face, but you probably-" 

His perfect comeback was never delivered. 

"I'll show you what I thought about doing to your face." 

(he closed his eyes and thought about everything he had already faced. he thought about georgie's death, bill's grief. he thought about eddie's broken arm – an arm broken by bowers himself, oh, the irony. he thought about bev's bruises, the way he could never defend her. he thought about giant birds and dead kids and werewolves and lepers and statues and eyes and blood and fear fear fear fear – he closed his eyes and focused in all the impossible things he had gone through, and how unfair it was that what really caught him in the end was cold and harsh reality.) 

Between the punches on his face, he realized he was at the alley behind the pharmacy, the one he and a bloody Ben waited for Bill, Eddie and Stan to come back with medical supplies. It would be so good if Ben was there. Ben would have calmed him down while the others bought stuff to fix him up. He smiled at the thought, because he was Richie The Most Stupid Person on Earth Tozier. That made Bowers’s cousin push him to the ground. 

“What are you smiling at, sicko?”

_ Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer_, “At the thought of Bowers in jail.”

That earned him a kick in the stomach. 

And then, he passed out. 

* * *

Richie had some trouble opening his eyes. One of them was too swollen to see anything. And he didn't know where his glasses were. It was still day, but knowing Derry, he could spend hours and hours lying on the floor, unconscious, and the only people who would do something about it were his friends.They all should be at Ben’s by now. 

His whole body was aching. Throbbing, as if his heart was everywhere, pumping blood in all the wrong places. 

He should get up. Richie took his hand to his face, touching his cheek. It came back red and wet.

He closed his eyes. Just a bit more of sleep. He was too tired to get up. 

* * *

“_Richie_!”

He felt hands grabbing him before he even opened his eyes. When he did, he met Eddie’s gaze, full of horror. Eddie was talking so fast Richie almost could not keep up. His head still felt dizzy. “Who did this to you? Oh my God, I said we should go looking for you and Stan said that he felt you should be left alone to think or some dumb shit like that and I knew, I fucking knew that I should not have listened to him! And I- I was so worried about you, I’m so sorry, I’m-”

“Eds, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not! You’re all beaten up. If you could see your fucking face right now-”

“I bet I’m handsome as ever,” Richie smiled and Eddie almost jumped back. Richie almost wanted to laugh. A bloodstained smile suited a teenage werewolf. 

“Can you get up? Let’s go home. Let me take care of you.”

He felt his heart skip a beat. _ Let me take care of you_. Eddie was so scared, but his voice was so soft when he said it. Richie wanted that help. He remembered Eddie cleaning Ben’s belly years ago. The way he was being so delicate, actually afraid of hurting Ben even more. That day he talked about AIDS and that they could get infected, but when it was time to really do something, he didn’t hesitate. 

“I’m fine, really. Just need to take a shower. And my glasses. Have you seen them?”

“Oh, you are for fucking sure going to take a shower, but first I’ll clean you up,” Eddie was shorter than him and his arm was around Richie’s waist. He put Richie’s arm over his shoulder and handed him his glasses. Richie didn’t care at all about other people seeing them like this – well, he had a very good reason that moment, but he realized that he could walk with Eddie like this all the time and it would be fine by him, thank you very much.

“You can clean me up in the shower, that sounds like a really good idea for me.”

“I think you have a concussion,” Eddie replied, but Richie could hear the smile on his voice. 

“It’s probably the pheromones you’re launching in the atmosphere.” 

Eddie laughed. Richie felt like he had wings on his feet. 

What killed him about Eddie was the fact that Richie didn’t even know himself, he wasn’t sure of the person he was and he had that awful fear that the real him, the him hidden inside his Voices, was such a terrible person that none of his friends would love him anymore. Rationally, he knew he was wrong. But Eddie… Eddie was the one who could see him. If he was all beaten up or if he was drunk or if he was sad, anything: he could trust his heart to Eddie. 

They walked in silence and Richie could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, a worried look on his face. Richie let himself be guided by Eddie’s steps, because his glasses were too dirty to see anything and because Eddie was a human compass. He was the one who took them out of the sewers. Eddie could take anyone to the place they needed to be. Maybe that was the reason Richie was always by his side, going wherever Eddie wanted to go. 

And the place Eddie called home for them both was the Tozier’s house. Richie groaned. “I hope they’re not there.”

“Your mom is awfully used to see you like shit,” Eddie answered, waiting for Richie to open the door. The lights inside were out, so they were alone. His parents probably went out to dinner. Every day was Valentine's Day for the Toziers. 

They went to the bathroom and Richie finally saw himself in the mirror.

The blood had dried, stains on his forehead and cheeks. Upper lip, right eyebrow, left eye: all swollen. Some cuts in his skin. That guy really was aiming to his face, but there was pain in his belly and he knew that he had taken some boots there after passing out. 

“Sit,” Eddie said, pointing to the toilet. Richie felt something funny in his stomach – _ now is not the time to be horny, richie _ – and obeyed. He watched Eddie open the drawer under the sink, searching for the things he would use. He thought about Stan, earlier, slicing fruits. Eddie, now, in front of him. Both of them, always so careful when handling delicate things, although they were not delicate themselves. Richie knew that Stan and Eddie were two of the toughest people in the world, probably only losing to Bev. Watching the way Eddie’s lips twisted, Richie knew he was a bit desperate to know what happened, but at the same time, determined to help Richie.

_ I love you_. Richie imagined how the words would sound in the open air. He squirmed a little when Eddie began cleaning him, and Eddie whispered _ sorry _ and Richie felt the urge to say that he didn’t need to be sorry, that he had never hurt him. _ I love you_, he almost said, but Eddie was wiping the injury on his mouth, so he just sat there, quietly, repeating the words over and over inside his head. 

* * *

When Richie got out of the shower, Eddie was waiting for him with an anxious look on his eyes and four sandwiches on a plate. 

“And now we have the newest concorrent of _ Cooking For Your Life_,” Richie tried to go for a New-Yorker accent. “Edward Kaspbrak! You see, Edward here was forbidden to turn on the oven for a very early age, because his mom-”

“_Richie_.”

Richie smiled sheepishly. Eddie usually loved his Voices, but he knew he could not get away with them this time. They were great for hiding his true self. Or to be more true to himself, without having to compromise – to quote Ben quoting someone in English class, _ give him a Voice and he will tell you the truth_.

He should just thank Eddie for the sandwiches, and the cleaning and the patience. Eddie had said he would use Richie’s phone, presumably to call Sonia. Richie knew that, after defeating It, the seven of them grew up to be a little more stranger than they already were. Of course, they were still Losers, but there was a different flavor in it. No bitterness. Eddie still struggled with his mom – and he would never phrase it like that, he would convince himself of how much his mother loved him and how ungrateful he was being if he called their relationship a “struggle” –, but it was easier for him to stand up against her will. If Richie was being honest, Eddie _ always _ stood up for others. Against her, against Bowers, against It. Richie wanted him to see that he too was worth fighting for.

“Your parents got home, they're watching movies together.” 

“Oh, the eternal honeymoon.”

“Tell me what happened,” Eddie’s voice had a plea to it that took Richie out of his guard. If he needed just one word to describe Eddie, it would be _ gentle_. Eddie was fierce, and Eddie was funny, and Eddie was anxious, but above all that, he was kind. That kindness, that gentleness that never asked for anything in return was what made Richie feel he was melting under his skin.

“The usual,” Richie took a sandwich and and ripped a piece with his hands. Biting right now was out of question. 

“Stan didn’t tell us why you fought. I told them that I would go after you, but Stan… He said he thought you should be alone to clear your thoughts and Bev said that I could call you later and I’m feeling really stupid for it.”

To his surprise, Richie saw shame in Eddie’s eyes. He was… Apologizing. 

“Eds, you already told me this and let me guarantee you that, if I hadn’t met the fucker who did this to me, I would much prefer you to enjoy your day with our friends and then call me by night than you sacrificing your time to be with me,” Richie told him. He was getting kinda tired of having those serious conversations. He thought about when they were eleven and had no real worries beyond running fast from their bullies and shouting bad words to each other, laughing while they did it. 

Eddie looked at his hands. He took a deep breath.

“Are you… Mad at me?”

Okay, he truly wasn’t expecting _ that_. He opened his mouth and a semi-chewed piece of bread dropped on his lap. “Gross,” Eddie whispered and Richie laughed and then groaned because his ribs hurt. 

“What?”

“You…,” Eddie trailed off. Richie knew the look on his face. Were they younger, he would look for Eddie’s inhaler. “I asked you to go to my house some days and you always had something to do. And you were supposed to be on my house today, but you were at Stan’s and you fought and now you’re all fucked up. And I had this feeling that you’re avoiding me. You even went with Mike to the library, like… What the fuck,” Eddie laughed, not a hint of joy in the sound. “I even asked Bill if he knew something and he looked, I don’t know, constipated. And now the only thing I can think is if he knows something I don’t and-”

“Eds.”

“Don’t call me that when you’re not even talking to me regularly!”

Eddie was quick in his emotions. He didn’t like to hide things, he was a terrible liar, when he laughed he laughed hard, and when he exploded, it was even harder. But he wasn’t angry, he was sad, and with horror, Richie watched his face flush. Eddie was crying. And it was his fucking fault.

Richie took Eddie’s hands. He felt a sting in his chest, realizing that he wished he could hug Eddie and kiss his hair and call him _ baby _ and tell him that he never did anything wrong. At least, he could do the last part.

“I’m not mad at you, Eddie. Right now, I’m mad at myself for letting you feel like that. I wasn’t avoiding you,” _ dear_, “I just… I… I have something to tell you and I’m scared as fuck to say it. I’m scared that if I tell you that you’ll look at me differently.”

“I would never,” Eddie murmured, and Richie realized that Eddie was holding his hands too. He could say it. He could just say it, and then get this thing out of his system. He could just say it to Eddie, and then he could say it to the other Losers because if Eddie was by his side – and Mike, he couldn’t forget Mike – he was capable of everything. 

“I…” _ love you love you love you want to kiss you want to hold you want to hug you want to dance with you and drive you home and hold your hand and wipe off all of your tears _ “like girls,” he said, instead.

Eddie stopped crying immediately. “Okay?”

“And boys.”

“Oh.”

Richie studied his face. Eddie didn’t let go of his hands. His heart could be heard on the moon.

“Please, say something. I might just die here.”

“I’m sorry I cried.”

“It’s okay,” _ baby_, “but please, something related to the subject on the matter would be good. Or don’t say anything. If you want to go home, it’s fine by me.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Richie felt a tension in the room that he wanted to laugh away, but it was impossible to laugh when Eddie was looking at him like he was – what? Richie couldn’t decipher his peer. 

“Thank you for telling me that,” Eddie said at least, and kissed his forehead. 

It wasn’t the answer Richie’s heart was aiming for, but the tickle of the kiss remained for a long time after Eddie went home.

* * *

(in the moments after the revelation, richie told him why he was all beaten up – and eddie tried to hug him, but it hurt, and so they just sat close to each other, their arms touching and richie almost told eddie the bigger truth, but maggie knocked on the door and told them that sonia had called and thank god the room was dark enough so she didn’t see richie’s face and eddie told him goodbye and the chance was gone.)

* * *

Richie couldn’t sleep. 

In his fifteen-year birthday, his parents gave him the best present ever: a discman. So now he was lying on his bed, eyes wide open, with Robert Smith singing directly inside his brain. _ Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me _ was not as good as _ Disintegration _ but – kiss me, kiss me, kiss me was just how he felt. 

He listened to _ Just like heaven _ in a loop. 

He imagined Eddie still there, by his side. Holding his hand. Richie closed his eyes. _ Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you? _

But even if he didn’t know that specific fact, he knew that Richie was into boys. Eddie knew, and didn’t let go of his hand, and kissed his forehead. Eddie was truly the best. It would be a dream if he liked Richie back. Richie imagined telling Eddie that he knew he didn’t have much to offer, but he would love Eddie with all he got, and that could be enough. 

He thought about Mike. He thought about Stan. He thought about himself. He thought about Ben and Bev and Bill. He thought about all the secrets in the world and he felt… Like a bubble was forming inside him, growing and growing, and now it wanted to explode. Mike knew. Eddie knew. Stan knew _ something_. Bill was his best friend, as were Ben and Bev. He wanted to be there for all his friends, he wanted his friends to trust him and so – so he should trust them. 

Richie didn’t trust the world around him. The world could be an awful place. People who will judge you and hate you no matter what. People who will punch you and kick you for no fair reason. People who will mistreat their sons. People who will abuse their daughters. People who will kill dogs and cats and birds. People who will turn their faces to not see a kid bleeding on the ground. But his friends – his friends were the people who put their lives in line, to avenge Georgie’s death, in a way, but it had been more than that. To avenge all the other kids that died that summer. To avenge the people burnt down in the Black Spot. To let the other children live in peace. To save the other habitants, the ones that made fun of them, that never helped them, that disrespected them. To save Derry, even if Derry never thanked them. 

His friends were the best people in the world. They were united by friendship, and trauma, and blood, and promises, and laughs, and – love. A love stronger than fear. A love stronger than hate. An all-encompassing love, that kept the demons at bay. 

He decided that living in fear was letting the fucking clown win. And he didn’t risk his life at thirteen to live the rest of it afraid. 

* * *

He got up earlier than everyone in the house and went to the kitchen to make pancakes. His face hurt like hell – the next day after a physical injury was always the worst one, and the skin under his shirt was full of purple. But he needed to do it now, while he still had the courage on him.

He loved his parents. Maggie and Wentworth treated him with gentleness and respect. The only times he got them angry were the ones when he had his glasses broken – and even if his parents knew it wasn’t exactly his fault, money didn’t appear in trees. Sometimes they had to be serious to him, when talking about grades – when he was eleven, school was a lot easier. It wasn’t exactly hard now, but he had difficulty in paying attention to his teachers. 

The greatest thing about them was how in love with each other they were. Richie had pretended to vomit a lot of times in the breakfast table, but the truth was he loved how affectionate they could be, throwing kisses to each other from each side of the room. He often thought about Sharon and Zack Denbrough, the way they looked like ghosts in their own house. The silence that lived there. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if it was happening to him. 

He was nervous, but he wasn’t afraid. That was good.

“Wow, what is that smell? Is it my birthday? Is it Christmas? Is it _ your _ birthday?,” Wentworth entered the kitchen. When the Losers came to his house, they always looked astonished by how much Wentworth resembled his son. Except for his eyes – Maggie and Richie shared the same electric, energetic blue eyes that looked like a clear summer day. 

Richie had his back to the door. He took a deep breath.

“Dad,” he said, turning around. The smile on Wentworth’s face faded and he ran at Richie, putting his hands on Richie’s shoulders. 

“Oh my God. Rich, what happened? Your mom told me that you were in the dark with Eddie and I thought well, the boy finally grew a pair, but you were hiding this from us, I can’t-”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, what happened to you? Maggie!,” he yelled. There was no anger in his voice. “Maggie, come here!”

Maggie appeared on the door and, just like Wentworth did, ran at Richie. Her eyes were big. Richie felt bad for them. It should not be easy have a kid that was born with a _ KICK ME _ sign on his back. Maggie always said that he was too cool for the world, but even if that was true, being the coolest one out of a bunch of Losers didn’t make much difference to others. 

“My dear…,” she murmured and then, “is there something burning?”

“The pancakes!,” Richie screamed, turning to the oven. He almost burnt himself throwing the burned pancake on the plate. At least, he got a fair amount of pancakes right before the pandemonium started. “Please, guys, sit down. I will explain everything.”

“We’re your parents,” Maggie said. “We tell you to sit down.”

But they did as he asked nonetheless. 

He finished making the pancakes and joined his parents on the table. Everybody was quiet, what was the weirdest thing to happen at the Tozier’s. Wentworth's words were still on Richie’s head. He looked at them. 

Maggie put a hand over his. "What happened?" 

"Why did my father thought that I, and I quote, finally grew a pair?" 

Maggie looked at Wentworth. He had the decency to blush. "Well, son, I too took my time in asking your mom on a date, but…" 

Richie shook his head. "We're talking about… Eddie?" 

"Yes," his parents said in unison. 

"We're talking about me, Richie, a boy, asking Eddie, another boy, on a date?" 

"We're not in the 50s, son," Wentworth offered him a smile. 

“And if we were you would disinherit me?”

The smile was gone. “Of course not.”

It was rare for his father to be serious, but the look on his face… Richie could tell, as clear as daylight, that his father meant it. That his father didn’t hate him, nor was afraid of him or worst, disgusted with him. 

"Okay. This is really super normal." 

"Richie… Dear, we love you. And we _ know _ you… Do you think we, your parents, wouldn't pay attention to you?," Maggie patted the back of his hand.

He thought about the Denbroughs. He thought about Alvin Marsh. He thought about Sonia Kaspbrak. Parents that didn’t pay attention to their kids, parents that paid the wrong kind of attention, parents that made the attention a nightmare. And he felt so, so lucky, and he didn't deserve it. Why did his friends had to suffer with absent, crazy and abusive parents while he won parents like that, without having to do anything? 

"And you're okay with it? No screaming? No crying? I won't be kicked out?" 

"Well, if you want to, I can make a scene," his father shrugged. "I just can't believe my son didn't trust me sooner with this et cetera." 

"You're unbelievable," Richie laughed. His parents weren't freaking out. His parents didn't hate him. He realized how much distress keeping his secret was causing him, because now he felt as if a massive weight had been taken out of his back. "But I have to inform you that I still like girls." 

"Girls are very likable," Wentworth agreed. 

"But I'm… I… I really like Eddie." 

"And we're really happy because Eddie is great," Maggie answered. 

“And I kissed Mike,” he said. It was a weird thing to tell his parents, considering that he hadn’t told them about his first kiss with Bev, or the kiss with the record shop girl. But the thing was, he wanted to be sure. What if they were okay with it only when nothing was happening? Telling them that he had kissed a boy made things more real. 

“He is the prettiest one of the gang, so it was a wise choice,” Maggie didn’t even blink. 

“But you shouldn’t tell people that… Mike trusted you, not us. But don’t worry, we’ll keep his secret,” Wentworth added. 

"Wow. That’s why you are reproaching me. I truly made those pancakes for nothing." 

"Sir, you still didn't tell us what happened to your face, so I believe those pancakes can still serve their purpose of – what? Buying us?," he could hear on his mother's voice that he had nothing to worry about. They wouldn't get mad at him. 

"Please, don't freak out," Richie said, and began to tell his parents what happened. 

All the time, while he saw Maggie's's face change with fury and Wentworth's eyes fill with tears, the only thing he could think about was how much he loved them. And the best feeling in the world – he was sure he was loved back. 

* * *

It was November 12th. 

Of course, as always, Sonia Kaspbrak wanted her son for herself. It was ridiculous how they could never celebrate Eddie’s birthday at his house, mostly because she made them feel utterly unwelcomed. She loved to talk about how the Losers stole Eddie from her – she loved to make mean comments about Bev and what the boys and girls talked about her, she loved to whisper about how Stan would always carry the stain of his _ people_, she loved to never look at Mike’s direction and still murmur that she used to have much better guests in her house once. She loved trying to make Eddie feel bad for the family he chose, but she was incapable of noticing that the only reason he had to feel bad about was the family she made for him. 

And so, Eddie spent his afternoon with her, alone with her exhausting love. 

“Rich, you’re gonna pierce the ground like that,” Bev said, looking inside the oven. “Ben’s cake is starting to grow… Eddie’s gonna love it.”

They were at Richie’s. Since Bev, Eddie and Bill didn’t have such welcoming homes, all for different reasons, so their birthdays were usually celebrated on the houses of their friends. Richie loved that his house was the one of Eddie’s choice. Maggie and Wentworth loved it too – they used to be around, making fun of Richie in front of everyone, in their lovely way. This time, his parents decided to go for a little weekend trip, beginning on that Thursday night. Richie would have the house for him and his friends for almost three days. Unfortunately, they still had class the next morning.

(“We don’t have to tell you to not break anything, right?,” Maggie said.

“And by that we are referring to the beds, too. You’re too young to have sex.”

“_Dad_. I’m begging you.”

“But if you _ do _ have sex…”

“Mom. I’m not gonna. Fuck. Anyone. Okay?”

“_Fuck_? Where is the romance? Just say _ make love _ like the bird in love that you are. And use condoms, I’ll give you money for that.”

“Be right back, I’m just gonna throw myself from the rooftop.”)

“Richie,” Bev called again. “Why are you so nervous?”

He stopped pacing and looked at her. She never let her hair grew to the length it had when they started hanging out. Short hair fitted her perfectly. He felt the urge to throw himself at her feet, the same way he once did. “I just want everyone to be here already.”

“Am I not good enough for you?,” she joked, coming closer to him. They were listening to one of Richie’s mixtape, the one he made especially for her. Stevie Nicks was singing _ when the rain washes you clean, you’ll know, you’ll know_. He took her hand and spun her. 

He loved Beverly Marsh so fucking much. 

He loved how she teased every one of them. He loved how fierce she was, how she tried to keep them together the summer they fought It. He loved the way she laughed, loud, unapologetically. He loved her taste in music, he loved her comments about the movies they watched together, he loved the silly faces she made from the other side of the classroom when they were both bored. 

“The truth is that _ I’m _ not good enough for you, miss Marsh,” he answered, making his Clark Gable Voice. “No one is.”

“Oh, Richard, you flatter me.”

“Only telling the truth, baby.”

“Are we interrupting something?,” Stan stopped on the kitchen’s door. Behind him, Mike, Bill and Ben watched. Richie let her go.

“Bev was helping me practice to give you the dance of your life, Staniel,” Richie smiled. He and Stan were good. Stan still watched him with suspicion, but since Richie wasn’t avoiding Eddie anymore, he probably felt like he should just let things be. “And now that you’re all here, I need to make an announcement.” 

Bill put the shopping bag on the balcony. “W-we’re listening.”

Richie looked at Mike, that smiled at him. It was like a band-aid. The quicker you pulled it, the less it would hurt. “Today is Eddie’s birthday so I don’t want to make things about me, but I’m kinda tired of worrying about this, so I’ll just say it and if someone is not okay with it, well, this is my house and-”

“Ju-just. Say it,” Bill was looking firmly at him. Richie felt something funny, like Bill already knew what he was going to say. Maybe he did. Maybe he was that obvious. It was reassuring, somehow, imagining that Bill already knew and just wanted to Richie confirm it. He nodded. 

“I’m…,” he noticed that Mike was mouthing _ bisexual_. Richie wanted to laugh. Maybe it was better telling them that than telling he was in love with Eddie. “Bisexual. Which means that I like girls and boys, according to Mike.”

Mike gave him the thumbs up.

“Not to steal your moment, Rich, but I also want to inform you guys that I like boys,” Mike added. No one looked surprised at Richie, like they were only waiting for him to tell, but all the heads turned to Mike. Richie could tell he didn’t expect it. His eyes grew bigger, and he could almost hear Mike’s thoughts. Regretting the moment he choose, regretting telling all of them at once. Richie would fight all of them if they said something weird to Mike. 

Ben was the first to speak. “I like girls,” he said. 

“Well, Benny, that is good, but expected,” Richie tried to smile. They had to ease the tension in the room before Eddie arrived. 

“No, it’s just… it’s kinda unfair that you have to go to the stress of telling this to us, you know?,” Ben blushed. “If everyone had to, it would probably be easier.”

“Stop right there, or I’m gonna fall in love with you real hard.”

Bill still looked at Mike with an expression Richie couldn’t read. It wasn’t negative, but the gears inside Bill’s head were spinning for sure. He got distracted by Bev, hugging him and Mike. “I love you guys,” she told them. 

Stan was behind her. He put a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I love you, Mike,” and then he looked at Richie. “I’m not against bisexuals, but you are all so annoying. _ HaShem _ bless,” he said and patted Richie’s cheek. 

“What other bisexual people do you know?”

“Me,” Bill answered. 

Everyone gasped, except Stan. “See?”

* * *

“Tha-tha-that’s why you were h-hu-h,” Bill got stuck in that word. He took a deep breath. “_Machucado_,” he said. He was learning Portuguese with Mike. His parents didn’t care much about what he did, so it was easy to drop the French when he saw the announcement in a light pole. Mike had this thing about Brazil, and Richie had just learned that Bill had this thing about Mike and it all suddenly made sense. “Hurt. And you told us that it was nothing.”

Everything was ready. The cake Ben made was at the center of the table organized by Stan: candies where on its left side, the pizzas on the right. They were waiting for Eddie to arrive. Richie and Bill were sitting on the doorstep. 

“But I wanted to tell you, Big Bill. I just didn’t know how. And you didn’t tell me either, so you’re not on the moral high ground.” 

Bill shook his head. “I-I know. It’s just… You’re my best friend. I was stu-stupid for not telling you.”

“I know, right? Thinking that we could have explored all that chemistry going between us early.”

“You’re like a brother to me, Rich.”

“You’re such a mood killer.”

But he wasn't. Richie remembered the first days after Georgie's death. The worst days of all. He would fight It again anytime, but he never wanted to feel like that again. The despair of knowing the exact last moment you had with someone. The despair of knowing he would never have known how Bill really felt. The guilt he saw inside Bill's blue eyes. Sharon and Zack becoming zombies – they weren't evil, they weren't actively doing anything bad, they just… Weren't there, anymore. 

Bill wasn't like a brother to him, it would be too fucked up if he said so after all the dreams he had about Bill. But Bill was family, in a way that Richie simply knew he could always count on him. The thing about Bill being neglected was that he would never turn his back on anyone in need. 

He should have told Bill. A part of him was glad that they could count on one another so much. A part of him was jealous that Stan was the first to know. This was on him too, of course. If he had told Bill first, Bill would probably have trusted him back. They were best friends, after all. Best friends inside a group of best friends. Richie remembered a day when Bill told him that he felt he could be most vulnerable around Richie. It was a midnight confession, and Richie smiled for a long time. To have a group of six people waiting for you to tell what they should do was not easy, and to know that Bill knew he could let go of the leader role around Richie gave him some sort of pride. 

Naturally, the fact that they were no more fighting an ancient evil made some things change. Richie was glad about that. If Bill trusted Stan first, that meant that he was finally accepting that he didn’t have to carry the burden of leadership anymore. He could be vulnerable around all of them. That was the best thing about the Losers: they could fall in any direction, certain that there would be a pair of hands to catch them. 

And Bill told him about his feelings for Mike. Which he hadn’t told Stan. To feel good about that was such a childish thing, right? 

But they were still kids.

Richie considered if he should tell Bill that he and Mike kissed. He knew Bill wouldn't be mad, it was unlike him to feel jealous. At the same time, it seemed to be the kind of thing he had to ask Mike before telling anyone. He imagined how it was for other groups of friends, that were capable of having relationships outside their own. Being able to tell your friends about the person you like, without the person you liked being at the same time someone they all knew and loved. 

He let his head rest against Bill’s shoulder. Bill put his hand on Richie's hair. Richie was sure that, even if Bill didn't like boys, he would still act like that. They showed affection through physical touch ever since the beginning, one of the reasons they got bullied for. When Eddie cried, Bill was always there, putting an arm around his shoulders. There was a day Bill was the one crying in public, and it was Richie who felt too aware of himself hugging Bill that time, ashamed of what people would think of them. He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t own anything to the world, only to them, the luckiest fucked up seven people he ever met. 

“Do-does Eddie know?”

“Yeah,” Richie closed his eyes. “I guess telling him was what gave me strength to tell you all.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Maybe you ga-gave him strength as well.”

Before Richie could answer, Eddie appeared on the corner of the street, on his bike, waving at them. Richie and Bill got up. Eddie was smiling and Richie inevitably smiled back, because all his friends knew and because he wasn’t alone and because Eddie was there, and it was always easier to smile around Eddie. 

* * *

(it was the best day of the year, even better than his own birthday – he loved that he and eddie were the bookends of their anniversaries. richie, bev, stan, ben, bill, mike, eddie. the seven most important days of every year, the day each of them came to the world and began their journey towards each other. the day eddie came to the world was also the day a part of his heart was born. they laughed and they ate and they sang and they danced together, seven pairs of hands touching one another. they hugged eddie and kissed him on the head. their birthdays were more than a mere celebration of the years passing by – for people who were nearly killed, their birthdays were celebrations of life, of being together, of never leaving each other’s sides. they were young and, in the ways of the young, in love with each other. ben loved bev that loved stan that loved bill that loved richie that loved mike that loved eddie that loved ben, and you could repeat this sentence in any order, it would be true. 

it was the best day of the year, and richie felt good on his own skin. no werewolves, no monsters, no struggles. only a teenage boy, with the family he chose to belong.)

* * *

Richie looked at Eddie, who looked at the night sky.

The others were inside. Ben and Mike were discussing over who made the most terrifying stories – Ben defending Lovecraft, Mike advocating for Poe. The last thing Richie heard on the subject was Stan saying that Lovecraft was racist as fuck, so that should end the argument. Bill and Bev were talking about something, laughing like only two people who once were in love and still loved each other could – comfortable in the roles they occupied now on each other’s lives. 

Eddie closed his eyes. Richie couldn’t stop staring. _ Flying here like this with you, underneath the stars align for 13 billion years_, Robert Smith sang inside his head, _ the view it’s beautiful_. 

“You’re damn right that is,” Richie whispered. 

“Talking to Robert Smith inside your head?”

“This was equally scary and hot, honestly,” he turned himself to Eddie, who still had his back on the grass, his eyes closed. “How did you know?”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“But you’re not viewing anything.”

Richie noticed that both of them were whispering, even though no one would hear them anyway. The music inside the house could be heard from outside – _ when you’re strange faces come out of the rain_. Bev said that this was their song, after all, they were all the strangest people in the world. 

They were whispering because somethings are easier said in a low voice, he realized. And his heart started beating loud in his chest. Low voices and loud hearts, the epitome of young love.

“I have already memorized it,” Eddie answered. Richie suddenly felt the pull of gravity. Stranger than that, he felt a change on it, like the sky was on earth. He felt like he was about to fly away and the only way to keep him on the ground was to hold Eddie’s hand. 

Eddie let him. Richie knew that nothing bad would happen, but he was still relieved that his hand didn’t become a paw. He was a boy. Only a boy. 

“Eds,” he started, but Eddie shook his head.

“I want to…,” Eddie trailed off. “But it’s too hard. For me.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Richie had an urgency in his voice that he didn’t expect. He needed Eddie to understand that there was nothing wrong with him. That his mom's voice shouldn’t win over his own. That if he felt the same way as Richie – it would be such a blessing in Richie’s life, he would feel the luckiest person to ever live. 

Eddie opened his eyes and looked at him.

Richie felt the gravity change once more. Eddie had brown eyes, and Richie swore that he could count the stars on them. He thought about how none of his friends were surprised when he told them he liked boys – because all of them thought _ Eddie, of course_. He was just as obvious as Ben was with Beverly. And that was okay, in a sense. They all knew, and they all waited for him to be ready to talk about it, even if he didn’t talk about Eddie per se. After Eddie arrived, they talked about it once more, and Eddie had this strange look on his face. He didn’t change around them, but he didn’t make the change Richie was expecting him to do. 

(“Maybe he is straight,” Richie commented to Ben, that was cutting a piece of cake. 

They looked at Eddie, who had Bev on his lap and was talking to her with nothing on his eyes but fondness. 

“I think not.”

“Just because he isn’t attracted to Bev?”

As if he knew he was the subject, Eddie stopped gazing at Bev to look at them. He gave the tiniest smile, and resumed talking to her, cheeks a little pink.

“No,” Ben gave Richie the plate. “Because he is to you.”)

The thing was It inflicted fear in Richie from the outside. The werewolf was bad because people thought him to be bad. They couldn’t see the scared kid inside. Richie could be afraid of the world for the rest of his life, but he wouldn’t be afraid of himself. But It didn’t have to inflict any fear in Eddie that wasn’t already there. Richie hated Sonia Kaspbrak a little more. 

“I want to be with you,” Richie said. _ I want to kiss you _ would be just as honest, but maybe too much. "Eds," the nickname felt sweet on his tongue. 

"Don't call me that," no anger in his voice. Richie only identified gentleness. No real declarations, nothing ever truly stated. They met always on the middle, the spaces language didn't touch, like poetry – all the words methodically placed, revisited, the meanings behind the silence. 

"Eds…," Richie smiled. _ I love you so much_. The blackness between the stars. The halo around the moon. The places where they touched and could feel lightness instead of fear. 

“You know I… I…,” always an _ almost_. Eddie tried to get the words out, Richie could see. But there was a war happening inside him. A war that he knew Eddie could win. A war Eddie had been fighting for too long. A war that, as all wars, shouldn’t exist in the first place. 

In the end, Eddie didn’t tell him what he already knew. He only squeezed Richie’s hand, before interlocking their fingers. Richie could feel Eddie’s pulse. It was as fast as his. 

They looked at each other for a long time, fingers intertwined. Richie understood clearly that he could wait for Eddie to be ready for all his life. There was no one in the world who could make him feel as Eddie did: not like a monster, a pervert, someone dangerous to be around, but just as himself, as his better self. Actions spoke louder than words, and Eddie holding his hand while looking into his eyes were the only confession he would get for now. 

And – for he had not the knowledge that their time with each other was coming to an end, that their lives would part away, that Mike would be the only one remembering how the seven of them looked together, that they would meet again in the most wicked circumstances, that Eddie would not be there to guide them out of the sewers the way he once did; and mostly, for he was young, and in love – that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> if you finished this, thank you very much!! 
> 
> i made a playlist for this series, you can [check it out here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/44FCxFh17MLvlCdfJKt638?si=Qy7T2kYLTKSShg6UFjIrsQ). it will be updated as i update the works.
> 
> AND eddie's birthday is on November 12 because... my birthday is on November 12... if eddie is a scorpio and i'm a scorpio what's the point in not making us being born on the same day, rightttt. so if you liked it and wanna make someone happy on their birthday........ the comment box is just below............. (just kidding unless etc ok i'm out)


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